PRICE  15  CENTS. 


NEW    YORK   HOOROARER 


OR 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  INFERNAL 

REGIONS   AND   RETURN 


I 
I 
! 


i 


''' 


I 


Gentlemen  of  Hell." 


BY  CHARLES  EDWARDS 


1  lie-     O.iiiy     Aiiilu/rj- 


■* 


NEW  YORK 

I'T     iH  I'.LISIHNG 


DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


FRIENDS  OF 

DUKE   UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 

GIFT  OF 


Winston  Broadfoot 


The  New  York  Hooroarer, 


A   STORY 


OF  NEWSPAPER  ENTERPRISE. 


CONTAINING    A 


VISIT  TO  THE    INFERNAL  REGIONS 


AND    RETURN. 


SECOND  EDITION, 


BY   CHARLES   EDWARDS. 


THE  ONLY  AUTHORIZED  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK : 

The  Humboldt  Publishing  Co. 


Copyright,  1«93, 
BY  CHAliLES  EDWARDS. 


£24a/ 


CONTENTS. 

*  ■  - 

Preface. 
Introduction. 
Chapter  I.     Two  Desperate  Editors. 
II.     A  Call  for  Volunteers. 

III.  A  Venomous  Resolve. 

IV.  In  Hades. 

V.  Antics  of  a  Murderer. 

VI.  Demons  Capture  the  Parson. 

VII.  Noblemen  Created  in  Hell. 

VIII.  Revival  Services. 

IX.  Pandemonium— Lord  Alcohol's  Speech. 

X.  Gormandize  and  the  Gentlemen  of  Hell, 

XI.  A  Storm  Arising. 

XII.  Desperate. 

XIII.  An  Ignoble  Conflict. 

XIV.  A  Return  Journey. 

XV.    An  Increase  of  Patronage. 
XVI.     Finally,  Dear  Brethren. 


INTEODUOTION". 


As  an  introduction,  I  wish  to  offer  a  few  words  of 
explanation  : 

ist.  Did  I  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  material  hell, 
I  never  would'have  written  the  following  satire.  Nei- 
ther do  I  believe  that  any  aquatic  animal,  swimming 
in  a  geographic  sea,  ever  swallowed  Jonah.  The  gro- 
tesque picture  painted  by  divines,  of  the  big  fish's  con- 
tortions as  he  swallows  Jonah,  is  so  horrible,  that  we 
involuntarily  recoil,  and  almost  disbelieve  our  senses. 
That  ecclesiastical  teaching  which  pleases  and  terrifies 
the  ignorant  is  certainly  in  keeping  with  the  dilatory 
past,  but  should  have  no  place  in  the  aggressive  future. 
That  which  distorts  and  deforms,  rendering  wild  and 
extravagant  a  beautiful  symbol,  demands  more  than  a 
simple  protest. 

But,  pardon  me,  sacred  institutions  must  not  be 
talked  at  so  jestingly, /or  they  may  be.  all  right,  and  if 
so,  the  following  extravagancy  becomes  a  reality. 

2nd.  The  speech  from  "Gormandize"  was  inspired  by 
hearing  a  man  say  that  he  had  been  ruined  once  by 
eating  too  much  dinner. 

3rd.  It  is  a  well  known  fact,  that  not  even  knives, 
pistols,  bloodhounds,  bull-dogs,  tigers,  fire,  brimstone 
or  devils,  will  deter  a  New  York  reporter  from  getting 
news. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 
in  2010  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


http://www.archive.org/details/newyorkliooroarerOOedwa 


PREFACE. 


When  the  first  edition  of  this  much -maligned 
little  book  was  issued,  I  believed  that  some  people 
would  be  greatly  shocked,  especially  those  who 
prided  themselves  upon  their  oithodoxy  ;  nor  was  I 
mistaken  in  this  conclusion ;  but  when  the  New 
York  and  Brooklyn  j^ress,  devoting  its  columns 
several  days  in  succession,  lifted  up  its  polemic 
hands  in  horror,  I  stood  agluist  at  the  have  c  this 
rascally  little  production  had  wrought ;  for,  let  it  be 
clearly  understood,  that  although  one  leading  paper 
called  it  "a  wonderful  production,"  another  de- 
clared that  "  it  was  a  work  that  might  make  the 
author  famous,"  and  still  others  were  so  generous  as 
to  devote  a  column  or  more  in  the  reproduction  of  its 
most  salient  parts,  giving  it  an  exceptionally  promin- 
ent if  not  a  flattering  reception,  yet  generally  con- 
ceding, in  their  diverse  criticisms,  that  I  had 
departed  from  my  legitimate  sphere — that  spher«', 
(theological  controversy),  as  Uiey  kindly  informed 
me,  liaving  breadth  and  depth  enough  for  the  most 
comprehensive  mind,  and  intimating  that  T,  like 
David,  from  sheer  naughtiness  and  pride  of  heart, 
had  come  upon  a  battle-field  and  trod  upon  for- 
bidden ground. 

After  getting  well  over  my  perturbation,  and  upon 
reflection,  wondering  very  n.uch  at  my  own  temi  rity, 
I  asked  myself  several  questions.  ''Is  it  possible," 
I  mused,  "that  I  have  trodden  upon  ground  that 
belongs  exclusively  to  the  domain  held  by  the 
newspaper  world  ?  Perhaps  they  know  more  of 
the  '  infernal  regions '  than  I  can  ever  dream 
or  think  of.  Then,  of  course,''  I  am  an  upstart 
— an  interloper.  Who  should  know  most  con- 
cerning the  directorate,  tl  e  Government,  the  popu- 
lace— in  fact  all  the  nooks  of  the  inferna] — news- 
papeiman  or  parson?"  I  concede  the  palm;  but 
my  bridges  are  burned.  I  fear  I  have  broken  through 
the  hedge  that  encloses  theology  and  entered  a  wider 
field. 


8 

As  one  object  of  m}'^  book  was  to  satirize  sensational 
journalism,  its  exceptional  recejjtion  by  the  press  was 
its  own  emphatic  exculpation  and  a  most  flattering 
testimony  of  its  effectiveness.  Now  for  points  in  the 
book  itself : 

In  my  introduction  I  speak  of  the  book  of  Jonah  as 
a  symbol.  My  reasons  for  doing  so  are  simple. and 
plain.  The  Bible  tells  us  that  the  woman  Hagar  is 
symbolical  of  Mount  Sinai.  So  if  this  story  of  Hagar 
is  a  symbol,  is  it  presum])tion  to  suppose  that  the  story 
of  Jonah  is  of  the  like  nature  ?    Is  this  true  ? 

"  The  heathen  worship  gods  of  wood  and  lead. 
And  Christians  worship  god  with  wooden  head." 

It  has  been  said  that  I  have  treated  in  a  light  and 
frivolous  manner  that  which  should  have  elicited 
seriousness.  I  reply — not  forgetting  the  inalienable 
rights  of  others  as  well  as  my  own — that  if  I  believe 
that  there  is  not  in  existence  a  place  answering  to  a 
literal,  material  carbon-consuming  hell,  should  not 
that  lingering  remnant  of  Paganism,  or  rather  its 
belief,  be  treated  with  frivolity  and  laughed  out  of 
existence  ?  As  one  paper  pointed  out,  iu  a  leading 
article,  that  "  Dante  treated  the  subject  seriously 
— Mr.  Edwards  has  made  a  joke  of  it."  Certainly, 
Dante's  conceptions  were  in  accord  with  the 
spirit  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  but  in  this 
age  of  progress,  thinktirs  of  all  classes  recognize  the 
doctrine  as  moribund,  and  will  welcome  the  laugh 
that  accompanies  its  kick  out  of  existence. 

Quite  lately  a  Methodist  minister,  and  Pastor  of  a 
New  York  church,  said  to  me  :  "I  believe  as  you 
do,  and  thousands  more  believe  like  you;  but  you 
are  outspoken  and  we  are  not.  Why,"  he  added,  "I 
would  not  deny  to  some  of  my  j^eople  the  solid  com- 
fort they  get  out  of  their  belief  in  a  literal  hell,  for 
anything,  my  friend." 

' '  What  comfort  ?"     I  asked. 

''The  comfort,"  he  added,  "they  experience  in 
believing  that  there  is  in  existence  a  veritable  and 
literal  ^;Za(^e  of  torment  for  any  who  are  offensive  to 
them,"  and  then  he  told  me  the  following  : 

A  man  (not  a  church  member)  who  made  it  his 
boast  that  he  never  believed  in  God,  devil,  hell  or 


lieaven,  was  once  so  enraged  at  what  he  considered  was 
Tile  and  villainous  in  ano  her,  that  he  cried  out,  with 
an  oath:  "  Now  I  believe  in  a  hell,  and  I  want  that 
fellow  to  go  there."  Cannot  we  also  trace  in  the 
origin  and  continuance  of  such  beliefs  the  effects  of 
the  same  causes  ?  That  old  Scandinavian  mythology, 
and  its  sacred  duty  of  blood  revenge,  has  simply 
become  metamorjDhosed,  and  as  God  and  his  attri- 
butes have  been  and  are  only  what  man  is  capable  of 
conceiving  Him  to  be,  we  can  eas  ly  understand  how 
the  vileaess  of  men's  natures  has  given  to  the  trans- 
cendantly  wise  head  of  the  univerpe  such  brutal 
attributes  and  associated  this  unknown  spirit  power 
with  the  base  and  cniel.  I,  for  one,  claim  my  sacred 
right  to  insurrection  against  all  such  evidences  of 
savagery,  with  the  privilege  of  choosing  my  own 
weapons. 

Some  have  claimed  that  because  I  have  introduced 
a  minister  and  a  deacon  under  such  compromising 
conditions,  I  bring  into  contempt  the  Church  of  God, 
and  that  I  am  guilty  of  blasphemy.  Wait  a  moment. 
I  wish  agam  to  emphasize  my  loyalty  to  those  prin- 
ciples embodied  in  the  character  of  the  Nazarene  of 
Galilee.  Indeed  I  do  not  look  at  any  sect  as  the  true 
exponent  of  that  ideal  life  of  which  a  glimpse  may 
be  caught  by  a  casual  glance  at  his  ineffable  charac- 
ter. But  sects  are,  in  my  judgment — humble 
though  it  may  be — simply  and  purely  immense 
segregations  intensely  interested  in  their  own 
aggrandizement.  The  suffering  masses,  unless  they  can 
be  used  for  our  own  particular  sectarian  advancement, 
receive  very  little  attention  and  sympathy.  Our  Chris- 
tianity may  be  the  best  method  known  in  the  worship 
of  God;  but  while  sectarianism  stands  in  the  highest 
place,  while  churchly  systems  carry  with  them  such 
evidences  of  their  earthly  origin,  the  satirist  must  be 
pardoned  if  to  him  they  are  not  regarded  as  sacred. 

Now  I  ask,  if  there  is  such  a  hell — I  mean  the 
kind  that  this  book  satirizes,  and  which  Christians 
have  for  so  long  a  period  veritably  accepted — should 
it  not  be  for  evil  doers,  whether  ministers  or  harlots  ? 
Am  I  guilty  of  so  great  a  crime  when  I  introduce 
such  characters  into  such  a  resort  ?  For  though  I 
have   met   fallen  women  with   tender  hearts — with  a 


lO 

generous  and  almost  noble  nature — yet  I  also  have 
met  deacons  with  hearts  of  flint  and  ministers  who 
were  the  personification  of  selfishness,  and  religious 
people,  too,  who  would  crash  members  of  their  own 
family  from  sheer  spite ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
though  that  woman  may  eventually  rest  in  an  un- 
known grave,  yet  the  others  will  surely  get  monu- 
ments and  inscriptions  like  the  following:  '*  Blessed 
are  the  dead  who  died  in  the  Lord." 

But  I  digress.  Let  us  return  to  hell — I  don't  mean 
the  place,  but  the  subject.  Does  it  exist,  or  does  it 
not  ?  If  it  does,  then  some  of  these  characters  should 
be  there.  If  it  does  not,  then  let  the  imagination 
amuse  itself  at  that  which  might  have  been  had  the 
belief  become  a  veritable  fact.  As  we  would  laugh 
at  an  extremeiy  funny  and  ridiculous  ghost  story 
which  grandma  believed  with  all  her  heart,  even  so 
let  us  smile  at  the  ill-conceived  notions  embodied 
even  now  in  the  religious  conception  of  hell.  The 
periodical  abolition  of  decayed  beliefs,  since  the  days 
of  Zoroaster,  have  not  only  left  religion  uninjured, 
but  purified.  Creeds  must  die ;  goodness  lives.  If 
buried  creeds  carried  their  goodness  into  the  grave, 
that  goodness  would  form  the  protoplasm  from  wiiich 
would  be  evolvf  d  higher  forms  of  a  nobler  spiritu- 
allity,  and  justice  and  love  and  the  truest  etiquette 
will  live  triumphantly  when  superstition  and  its 
cumbrous  co-ordinates  have  been  forgotten. 

It  has  been  urged  that  it  is  not  customary  for 
ministers  to  write  such  ill-assorted  charactizations. 
Well,  when  custom  decreed  that  a  minis-ter  should 
preside  at  the  burning  of  a  heretic  he  did  it,  and  then 
proceeded  to  church  and  thanked  God  that  the  work 
had  been  so  well  executed.  But  then  that  was  cus- 
tom; but  now  it  is  not  customary  for  a  minister  to 
make  people  laugh  at  their  own  folly — not  this  way, 
so  say  many. 

If  custom  decreed  that  people  should  go  nude 

We'll  bow  to  its  sway ; 

If  all  had  to  pray 
That  God  would  change  our  judgment  of  the  rude. 

I  know  the  language  is  not  that  which  might  be 
expected  from  a  homiletic  point  of  view.  I  had,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  to  descend  myself.     Yet  how  I 


II 

could  honestly  rej^roduce  this  vision  without  using^ 
this  very  language  that  has  been  so  widt  ly  con- 
demned, and  still  continued  to  repect  myself,  I  know 
not. 

Some  ministers  have  objected  to  the  extraordinary 
use  of  my  imaginative  faculty.  Where  are  we  all  ? 
Go  to  anv  of  our  churches;  go  to  that  most  cele- 
brated of  Brooklyn's  divines,  and  if  wild  fancy  is  a 
sin,  surely  "  all  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray." 

I  do  not  object  to  revivals.  God  knows  they  are 
too  otten  needed;  but  tliis  pen  shall  trail  the  ink 
that  shall  form  the  words  wherewith  to  construct 
sentences  strong  in  utterance  and  condemnatory  in 
tone  against  those  men  who  shout  "glory"  the 
loudest  and  possess  in  an  inappreciably  small  degree 
those  qualities  of  love  and  kindness  which  character- 
ized Him  whom  they  profesb  to  follow ;  against  that 
system  that  makes  a  distinction  in  favor  of  those  who 
carry  fat  and  not  Jlat  pocketbooks. 

Again,  it  has  been  charged  that  I  do  not  appre- 
hend a  future  judgment.  Whatsoever  one  sow"  that 
shall  he  also  reap,  and  somewhere  in  nature  a  com- 
pensatory principle  is  at  work  restoring  an  unequal 
equilibrium.  No  wrong  will  go  unpunished,  and 
every  sweet  act  of  kindness  done  is  in  some  myster- 
ious manner  registered  in  the  doer's  lavor. 

This  faith  has  been  my  anchor ;  for,  judging  that 
the  blow  I  have  struck  (if  in  proportion  to  how  bard 
I  have  been  hit  back)  must  have  been  heavy  ;  yet  to 
no  living  individual  have  I  tlie  remotest  ill-feeling ; 
yet  as  individuals  love  their  idols,  so  will  indi- 
viduals return  the  blows  intended  only  for  their  huge 
concrete  images. 

The  many  letters  I  have  received  from  intelligent 
writers  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  in  appreciation 
of  the  work,  was  in  some  measure  an  offset  to  the 
terrible  ordeal  throrgh  which  I  have  recently  passed ; 
and  yet,  had  I  stood  alone  in  the  world,  without 
one  ray  of  encouragement,  I  would  still  claim  the 
privilege  of  laughing  at  anything  laughable,  not  for 
the  purpose  of  mere  sport,  but  that  higher  concep- 
tions and  nobler  and  loftier  thoughts  may  take  the 
place  of  that  which  should  be  buried  at  once. 

I  take   this   opportunity  to  thank  those  who  were 


12 

kind  enough  to  write  me — and  to  every  one  a  copy 
of  this  edition  will  be  sent ;  and  of  the  very  many 
letters  I  received,  only  one  gave  me  pain,  and  that 
was  from  a  man  in  New  York,  who  urged  me  to  at 
once  take  the  lecture  field,  offering  to  provide  stere- 
opticon  views  upon  the  subject.  To  him  I  replied  as 
follows  : 

Fekeport,  L.  I. 

Mr. 

Dear  Sir  :  Yours  of  Sept.  9th  to  haud.  In  reply, 
would  say  that  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  in  your 
consideration  of  me  as  a  celebrity  of  sufficient  magni- 
tude to  enter  the  lecture  field.  I  commend  you  for 
your  shrewdness,  and  have  little  doubt  that,  with  the 
knowledge  and  experience  which  you  possess,  money 
could  be  made  as  a  result  of  the  undertaking.  Yet,  as 
money-making  is  not  my  sole  object  in  life,  I  must 
respectfully  decline  your  tempting  offer. 

I  remain,  dear  sir, 
Yours  truly, 

C.  Edwards. 


THE  NEW  YORK  HOOROARER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

TWO  DKSPKRATK  KDITORS. 

"  Courage,  heart,  to  outface  this  unequiv- 
ocal debt,  that,  like  a  close-meshed  net,  holds 
me  in  its  embrace.  My  paper  must  live — must 
survive— must  circulate — though  tired  limbs 
and  sad  heart,  with  worried  brain,  lock  their  step 
with  doubt,  debt  and  poverty.  Oh,  incubus- — 
nightmare — misery  ;  God's  peace  is  vanished, 
and  more  destructive  than  an  army  is  debt's 
invasion.  My  paper  must  live ;  my  brain  shall 
be  more  than  ever  fertile.  Alas  !  and  can  it  be, 
a  mind  as  high  as  mine  should  wallow  in  such 
depths  of  poverty  ?" 

The  speaker  was  the  Kditor  of  a  New  York 
paper  that  was  struggling  against  adversity. 
He  was  a  man  of  splendid  parts  and  of  un- 
daunted courage,  (as  all  New  York  newspaper 
men  are),  but  with  a  terrible  force  of  circum- 
stances arrayed  against  him. 

The  Editor  opened  a  closet  door,  and  lock- 
ing his  hands  together  over  the  top,  swung 
backwards  and  forwards  several  times,  causing 
the  door  to  squeak  horribly  upon  its  hinges. 

"There,"  he  ejaculated,  ''that  will  do  ;  'tis 
the  only  exercise  I  get ;  now  to  business." 


14 

The  speaker  took  down  a  wine-glass  and 
a  bottle,  and  after  asking  himself  the  question 
how  it  happened  that  people  in  trouble  so  often 
became  thirsty,  proceeded  to  drink  three  glasses 
of  wine,  and  then  successfully  persuading  him- 
self that  he  had  only  taken  two,  helped  him- 
self to  another,  and  said,  as  he  held  up  and 
looked  at  the  bottle  : 

' '  Solace  of  my  trouble,  and  transposer  of 
my  troubled  mind,  which  rises  from  the  fath- 
omless pit  of  depression  to  the  grandest 
elevation.  Let  me  ruminate  just  a  moment ; 
we  all  begin  very  low  and  end  extremely  high, 
like  the  Times,  \h^Tribu7ie  a.r\6.  the  World.  My 
ending  shall  be  a  thousand  feet  in  the  skies — 
a  magnificently  gigantic  structure.  Oh  wine,  I 
adore  thee ;  I  place  thee  near  my  heart.  Dear 
solace,  just  one  more  glass  as  the  bottle  is 
in  hand,  and,  to  save  me  the  extra  exertion 
of  again  coming  here,  just  one  more,  thou 
*  shroud  of  worriment  ;'  "  and  the  Editor  of 
the  Hooroarer  drank  again. 

Just  then  a  man  as  clumsy  as  an  elephant 
entered,  and  as  he  walked  up  to  his  chief,  (for 
he  was  the  sub  editor),  he  said,  with  bland 
suavity  : 

"  Sir,  I  have  a  superabundance  of  nothings 
for  the  morning's  issue." 

"In  with  it,"  answered  the  Kditor ;  ''we'll 
give  to  a  gullible  public  a  dish  of  cooked  noth- 
ings, basted  with  editorial  glory.  In  with  it, 
sir." 


15 

''Sir,"  answered  the  Sub-Editor,  drawing 
a  deep  sigh,  and  looking  longingly  at  the 
bottle,  "the  public  has  a  large  and  ver^^ 
exacting  appetite." 

"So  have  I,"  returned  the  Editor,  as  he  hur- 
riedly returned  the  bottle  to  the  closet,  and 
slammed  to  the  door. 

The  Sub-Editor  started  back,  and  snatching 
his  pen  from  behind  his  ear,  held  it  convulsively 
in  his  hand,  like  a  dagger  would  be  held  when 
a  deed  of  blood  was  contemplated. 

''Sir  !"  he  cried  passionately. 

The  Editor,  with  no  apparent  feeling, 
walked  up  to  his  desk,  and,  sitting  in  his 
editorial  seat,  suddenly  banged  his  hand  very 
vigorously  upon  his  desk,  and,  pointing  to  a 
dilapidated  chair,  motioned  his  assistant  to  sit 
down. 

*'  Now,"  said  he,  as  the  other  relapsed  into 
his  chair  with  a  sigh,  "has  news  indeed 
placed  itself  upon  the  absentee  list  ?" 

' '  It  has,  sir, ' '  replied  the  other,  as  he  glanced 
furtively  at  the  closed  closet. 

"  And  must  our  columns,  then,  be  weighted 
with  inanity  ?  "  replied  the  Editor.  ' '  Oh, 
News,  News,  News !  if  thou  couldst  be  gotten 
by  the  planting,  how  much  waste  land  might 
be  utilized  by  this  needed  industry  !"  And  the 
Editor  wept. 

The  Sub-Editor,  who  had  the  evening  before 
seen  Hamlet  played,  and  had  finished  the 
night  with  a  late  supper,   etc,  here  bent  for- 


i6 

ward,  and  in  an  awfully  sepulchral  voice  said^ 
"It  can,  sir." 

The  Editor  was  so  startled  with  the  de- 
meanor of  his  assistant,  that,  bracing  himself 
suddenly,  and  becoming  an  involuntar}^  con- 


tortionist, he  broke  the  back  of  his  office  chair 
and  fell  over  and  on  his  head,  then  recovered 
himself  on  his  knees,  where  he  knelt,  looking 
woefully  at  his  assistant. 

"  It  can,"  calmly  reiterated  the  assistant. 

^'  Don't  do  it  again,  sir,"  severely  returned  the 
Editor,  as  he  took  possession  of  the  broken 
chair. 

''Assuredly  not,  sir,"  penitently  replied  the 
assistant,  and  then  added  : 


17 

"  lyCt  ns  grow  newsberries,  sir." 
^'Newsberries?"  asked  the  editor,  rubbing 
Ills  bruised  arm  ;  and  then  putting  his  lips  to 
the  assistant's  ear,  he  whispered  : 

"  Can  I  grow  a  president  shot, 
With  my  reporter  on  the  spot  ? 
Can  news  be  raised,  in  market  sold, 
And  not  decay,  ere  one  hour  old— 

''Can  I  ?"  he  shouted  ;  and  the  Kditor  banged 
his  fists  so  savagely  upon  his  desk,  which 
was  an  old  one,  that  he  smashed  the  centre  in, 
and  then,  leaning  back  to  survey  the  disaster 
and  forgetting  that  the  support  for  his  back 
was  gone,  he  tumbled  over  again,  making  a 
frightful  misuse  of  his  face  and  head  upon  the 
floor,  and  then  sprang  up  in  a  rage. 

"It  can,  sir,"  answered  the  Sub-E:ditor,  in  a 
rasping  tone  of  voice. 

Impertubable  was  this  man,  but  deep  within 
him  he  was  near  the  explosive  point  with 
laughter. 

''  Villain  !"  returned  the  Editor,  in  a  tower- 
ing passion  ;  then  suddenly  pausing,  he  added 
supernaturally,  (one  of  the  evidences  of  prog- 
ress  in  the  nineteenth  century  is  self-control,) 
''^see   me  subdue  myself— oh  !"    he  shouted, 
"  where  did  we  leave  off— where  ?  " 
^  ''Newsberry  cultivation,"  returned  the  as- 
sistant, showing  signs  of  impatience. 
''Ah,  yes,"  cried  the  Editor. 


i8 

"'  Oh,  that  a  rough  slip  of  absurdity 
Could  be  inarched  with  sublitaity, 
To  rear  a  good  news  tree,  whose  fructescence 
Might  furnish  news  as  stills  furnish  essence  ; 
Sparkling,  startling  and  newsy  day  by  day. 
Where  type  could  be  set  from  its  fruitery. 

"But  enough  ;  we'll  to  business,  for  the  com- 
munity must  be  fed — and  it  waits  for  us  —and 
news" 
'*  Where  and  when  shall  we  plant,  sir?" 
"I  must  think,"  returned  the  Editor,  as  he 
walked  with  theatrical  and  measured  step  up 
and  down  the  room.  "In  the  meanwhile,  des- 
cant depravities,  and  scratch  the  public's  itch- 
ing parts,  watch  and  fan  scandal's  flame,  for 
the  people  pray  and  pay  for  it  ;  embellished 
facts  are  the  most  palatable.     Ah  ! 

"Could  I  but  attune 
Secrets  culled  from  the  encircling  moon, 
Range  the  glittering  stilliferous  nations, 
Skip  to  haydes  and  sister  constellations, 
Mount  lustrous  Jupiter,  spring  on  to  Mars, 
And  search  the  archives  of  the  silent  stars. 

**  Oh,  for  ground  to  plant  this  good  seed  in  ! 
To  plough  and  harrow  and  fertilize  it  would 
be  my  delight.  Would  not  this  send  us  sky- 
ward? would  not  this  ensure  success  ?" 

The  Sub -Editor's  great,  clumsy  bod}^  arose 
from  his  chair,  and  as  he  confronted  his  chief 
he  fixed  that  terrible  Hamlet-like  look  upon 
him. 

The  Editor  paused,  and  lifting  his  hand  in  a 
warning  manner,  cried  out,  "  Say  not,  '  I  am 
thy  father's  ghost,' "  and  he  again  looked  at  the 


19 

closed  door  behind  which  the  wine  bottle 
rested,  and  added  :  *'  for  I  am  fortified  against 
all  such  malignity." 

The  other  dauntlessly  replied,  as  though 
his  purpose  was  not  to  be  deflected  by  such  a 
trifle  : 

"Why  not  send—" 

"  Spit  it  out,  sir.  Procrastination  has  been 
our  ruin,"  cried  the  chief. 

"  Send  your  reporters  to  Hell  for  news,  sir  ?" 
interjected  the  other. 

The  Editor  fell  against  the  closet  door,  and 
fumbled  at  the  handle,  and  then  gasped  almost 
inaudibly  : 

"Can  any  one  go  there  on  a  visit?  Oh, 
visionary  of  the  wildest  kind.  Can  they  ?  I 
say,  answer  me — can  they  ?" 

"  Try  them,  sir,"  returned  the  Sub- Editor, 
looking  hard  up  at  the  ceiling,  as  if  something 
might  crack. 

"Just  think  of  how  that  would  look,"  mused 
the  Editor  ;  '-a  bold,  grand  headline—*  An  in- 
terview with  his  Satanic  Majesty,  King  Beel- 
zebub, Emperor  of  the  Infernal  Regions  and 
Prince  of  the  Bottomless  Pit.'  Wait,  man, 
wait ;  'tis  too  much  to  grasp  without  aid;  "  and  . 
he  opened  the  closet  door  and  both  the  noble 
artists  drank  and  wished  that  their  throats  were 
as  long  as  the  conduits  of  the  Brooklyn  City 
Water  Works,  and  that  they  might  feel  the 
attendant  excitement  caused  by  the  liquor  the 
whole  length  of  transit. 


20 

CHAPTER   II. 

A   CAIvI.   FOR   VOI.UNTEKRS. 

"  Now,"  inquired  the  Editor  of  his  assistant, 
as  with  flushed  faces  they  again  sat  at  the  desk, 
"how  shall  we  manage  this  extraordinary- 
business  ?  ' ' 

"Call  for  volunteers,  sir,"  returned  the 
other;  "  I  would  force  no  man  on  such  a  dan- 
gerous expedition  as  this.  Dear,  dear  sir,  this 
is  serious." 

^'Call  them,  then."  The  Editor  dropped 
his  head  into  his  hands  and  groaned  audibly 
as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  maturing  debts. 
*' Call  them  !"  he  muttered;  "  I  am  in  tor- 
ments now.  Call  them,  I  say  !  What  matters 
it  if  they  go  there  also  ?" 

The  Sub-Editor  at  once  went  to  the  tele- 
phone, walking  across  the  room  with  a  regular 
stage-stride,  and  called  out.  "Ho,  there,  Cen- 
tral ?     Hel  ho  there,  Central  ?  "  and  waited. 

The  Editor  had  relapsed  into  deep  meditation, 

but   only  for   a   few   fleeting    moments,    and 

then,  in  his  impatience,  tried  to  dislocate  every 

joint  in  his  fingers.  Then  he  cried, "  My  paper 

'must  live — must  survive." 

"Is  that  you,  Barleycorn?"  called  the  Sub- 
Editor  into  the  telephone,  and  then  waiting 
long  enough  for  an  answer,  he  continued  : 
"  Send  to  the  twenty  districts  and  invite  vol- 
unteers to  go  and  report  from  the  infernal 
region yes great    hazard yes 


21 

don't  deceive  them;  it's  dangerous  busi- 
ness  all     right good    day."     "They'll 

soon  be  here,  sir,"  added  the  Sub-Editor  as  he 
hung  up  the  ear  trumpet  and  returned  to  the 
desk. 

The  Editor  looked  at  him  blankly,  and  said 
in  a  very  doubtful  manner  :  "  Sir,  if  it  were  to 
skim  the  raging  sea  with  a  four-foot  boat,  or 
surmount  Himalayan  obstacles,  or  attempt 
impermeable  latitudes,  or  with  hydrogen  and 
silken  globe  assail  the  altitudes,  or  to  make 
the  immutable  portable,  or  to  make  the  rari- 
ties of  the  unknown  sortable — between  us  we 
may  use  a  metaphor — these  men  might  face  this 
music.  These  men,  who  for  news  would  dare 
the  wild  Niagara,  yet,  to  visit  Sheol  will  prove, 
I  fear,  a  staggerer.  I  fear  they  will  never 
elect  to  become  a  companion  to  the  Evil  One." 

"  But,  sir,  they  do  it  every  day.  The  devil 
has  to  be  forever  at  their  elbow,  or  never  a 
sheet  of  news  would  we  get.     Fact,  sir." 

"  But  not  in  forked  and  furious  flames 
twenty  miles  high,"  shouted  the  Editor,  and 
then  added,  very  softly,  indeed,  "  see  how  calm 
and  gentle  I  am  under  the  blazing  fire  of  this 
heated  discussion." 

Just  then  a  tremendous  uproar  was  heard  in 
the  street.  Cabs  and  vehicles  of  every  des- 
cription were  rushing  in  from  all  directions, 
and  such  a  din  was  suddenly  created  that  Bed- 
lam appeared  to  be  in  the  very  neighborhood. 

" Ah  !"  cried  the  Editor,   "what   means  the 


22 


turbulent  mob  ?"  and  then  clambered  out  upon 
the  balcony,  and  looking  down,  saw  a  crowd 
struggling  to  get  in  at  the  door  below,  and  a 
number  of  upturned  faces  and  outstretched 
hands  and  voices  belonging  to  them  shouting 
up  to  him,   "  Me  !  me  !  me  !  " 

"  Me  !  me  !  "  he  cried.  "Selfish  men.  That's 
the  politician's  shout  when  seeking  ofiice — the 
ground-work  of  all  the  fearful  pictures  of  hu- 
man miser5^" 


Just  then  a  fire  engine  came  dashing  up  the 
street,  all  ablaze  and  vomiting  glowing  sparks 
and  dense  black  smoke,  the  firemen  hanging 
on  by  their  arms  and  legs,  and  the  driver  curs- 
ing all   the  other  drivers  within  a  thousand 


23 

miles  of  "him.  This  phenomenon  drew  up  op- 
posite the  office  of  the  New  York  Hooroarer, 
and  a  man  jumped  off  the  engine,  and  he,  too, 
ran  across  to  the  struggling  crowd  at  the  door, 
and  seeing  the  Editor  at  the  window,  held  up 
his  hand  and  shouted,   "  Me  !  me  !  me  !  " 

"  Me  !  me  !  me  !  "  mocked  the  Sub-Editor, 
*'  He,  too,  is  permeated  with  the  contagion — ■ 
the  self-advancement  curse  of  State,  Church 
and  politics." 

"  What  does  it  all  mean,  sir?"  asked  the 
Editor,  trembling  violently,  and  striking  his 
forehead  distractedly  with  his  hands. 

*'  They  are  our  reporters,  sir,"  returned  the 
Sub-Editor,  "  rushing  like  an  impetuous  tor- 
rent to  answer  our  call  for  volunteers  " 

"  A  faithful  staff  (to  themselves)  ;  help  me, 
sir,  to  get  back  from  this  window  ;"  and  the 
Editor,  half  fainting  from  the  excessive  fumes 
of  alcohol,  was  hurriedly  dragged  to  his  desk. 
In  a  few  minutes  there  was  an  awful  uproar 
heard  upon  the  stairs,  as  though  a  thous- 
and men  were  engaged  in  a  tussle  for  possess- 
ion of  the  building,  and  the  next  minute  the 
door  was  burst  open  and  men  of  all  sizes 
rushed  in,  hatless,  and  with  their  coats  torn 
to  shreds,  quickly  filling  the  room,  so  eager 
did  they  seem  to  be  engaged  in  this  hazzard- 
ous  undertaking,  and  shouting,  vociferously 
"Me  !  me  !  me  !" 


24 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  VEJNOMOUS   RKSOIvVEJ. 

The  Editor  now  stood  up  and  steadied  himself 
between  his  broken  chair  and  splintered  desk, 
and  said  with  the  deepest  concern  : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  perceive  you  are  now  quiet. 
I  also  beg  to  call  to  your  attention  the  fact 
that  it  is  one  of  the  evidences  of  the  boasted 
progress  of  this  nineteenth  century  that  you 
are,  gentlemen,  at  this  present  and  tremen- 
dously excitable  moment  so  calm.  I  say  it, 
gentlemen,  with  pride.  So  calm,  so  much 
under  self-control,  and  such  a  rebuke  to  the 
assertion  that  we  are  retrograding — in  fact, 
going  back  to  where  Darwin  says  we  came 
from — even  to  the  tail.  I  say,  gentlemen,  I 
am  proud  of  you,  for  each  man  of  you  should 
be  the  happy  possessor  of  a  hatchet,  &c.,  to 
put  you  on  an  equality  with  the  father  of  your 
country,  when  you  see  him  later,  where  all 
shall  gather  who  have  never  told  an  out-and- 
out  whopper,  which  brings, me  to  what  I  am 
about  to  observe.  We  have  issued  a  call.  Do 
you  know  its  import?  Do  you  realize  the 
danger?  Do  you  know  where  duty  calls?  Do 
you  want  to  go  ? '' 

At  this  the  crowd  pressed  closer  and  eagerly 
shouted,  "Yes,  yes,  to  Hell  !  Me  !  me  !  me  !  " 
and  after  the  men  in  the  room  were  silent,  the 
crowd  on  the  stairs  took  up  and  repeated  the 


25 

-cry,  *'  To  Hell  !  Give  us  a  chance,  sir.  Me  ! 
me  !  me  !" 

"Only  one  is  wanted  to  make  distraut  for 
news  on  the  nether  reg^ions,"  cried  the  Editor. 

'*  Me  !  me  !  "  shouted  fifty  voices. 

"  What !  midst  green  blue  flames  !  "  returned 
the  Editor,  astonished  ;  ^'  Oh,  fearless,  unin- 
timidated  meddlers  of  intelligence!"  and  he 
was  nearly  overcome,  insomuch  that  his 
assistant  came  to  his  support  during  the 
balance  of  the  trying  ordeal. 

'*  Me  !  me!  me!"  again  cried  a  medley  of 
voices,  that  echoed  now^  with  unrestrained 
impatience. 

"One's  fidelity  only  is  to  be  tested,"  re- 
turned the  Editor,  in  a  broken  voice;  ''you, 
Scribble -Scrub,  are  the  man  ;  one  who  dares 
harness  the  city's  fire  horses  and  gallop  here  at 
our  call,  is  the  one  who  must  dare  the  devil, 
and 

Hell's  news  for  earth  shall  dun, 

His  body  change  to  a  ferruginous  one  ; 

And  the  Editor  called  out  the  man  whom  he 
had  seen  get  off  the  fire  engine  and  run  across 
the  street  ;  for  this  man  had  actually,  after  re- 
ceiving the  call,  and  finding  no  other  way  of 
getting  quickly  to  the  office,  rung  a  fire  alarm 
in  the  City  Hall  district,  and  then  boarded  the 
fire  engine,  which  thundered  and  tore  through 
the  streets  and  took  him  to  his  destination 
very  rapidly. 

The  others   all  began   to  mope,  and   one  or 


26 

two  asked  to  be   allowed  to  put  in  their  resig- 
nation as  reporters  for  the  Hooroarer,  so  dis- 
appointed did  they  all  seem  ;   but  the  Editor, 
seeing  it  needed  decisive  measures,  cried  out : 

"  What !  my  staff,  my  brave  staff",  my  noble 
staff" !  away  to  your  several  occupations.  The 
universe  is  before  you."  He  then  pointed  to 
the  door,  and  very  soon  the  melancholy  crowd 
of  disappointed  reporters  departed,  leaving  only 
Scribble-Scrub  and  the  two  Editors  in  the 
room. 

"And  now  for  my  journey,"  cried  the  in- 
tending self  immolated  reporter,  who  now  ap- 
peared truly  eager  for  departure.  "  Give  me 
a  relay  of  pens  and  a  firkin  of  ink.  By  the 
way,  do  you  think  I  can  get  liquor  there,  sir?" 

*'  If  there  are  drug-stores  there — yes,  cer- 
tainly," replied  the  Editor. 

"  Drug  stores,"  thoughtfully  returned  Scrib- 
ble Scrub,  and  then  he,  too,  said,  "Yes,  cer- 
tainly, for  all  the  doctors  as  well  as  all  the 
lawyers  will  be  there ;  so  'tis  settled,  then, 
and  I'll  go.  I'll  interview  that  creature, 
Beelzebub,  prince  of  imps  and  duke  of  goblins, 
and  send  to  earth  news. 

If  I  have  to  spell 

And  filter  messages  through  the  chinks  of  Hell ' ' 

The  Sub  Editor  ambled  up  to  the  man  and 
patted  him  upon  the  back,  bid  him  a  speedy 
journey,  and  asked  him  how  he  was  going. 

The  reporter  took  out  his  pad  and  pencil, 
and  then,  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  said  :. 


27 

I'll  belladonna  by  belly  ;  I'll  aconite  my 
inner  membrane's  million  mouths;  I'll  gorge 
my  conduits  with  aquafortis,  and  finish  all 
most  surely  with  a  dose  of  strychnine  ;  yes, 
sir,  I'll  go." 

The  Editor  embraced  him  rapturously  and 
then  said  solemnly,  as  if  he  regretted  his 
emotional  weakness  : 

"The  cost  of  venom  charge  to  me  ;  but  send 
me  news.     I  implore  you,  send  me  news — do." 

The  Sub  Editor  also  was  delighted  with  his 
resolutions,  yet  he  pretended  seriousness,  and 
urged  him  without  delay  to  impress  some 
rattlesnakes  and  scorpions,  and  add  a  few 
copperhead  snakes  wherewith  to  drive  the 
nail  home. 

The  reporter  promised  to  leave  no  stone  un- 
turned to  accomplish  the  end  in  view,  and  with 
money  enough  to  pay  all  necessary  expenses, 
left  the  office  with  the  peculiar  look  of  one  who 
has  determined  to  do  something  desperate. 

The  two  Editors  now  gazed  at  each  other  for 
an  hour  and  a  half,  neither  breaking  the  painful 
silence,  when  the  Editor-in  Chief,  who  during 
all  this  time  remained  very  calm,  now  showed 
some  degree  of  excitement,  and  said  : 

''This  is  pushing,  driving,  rushing,  impetu- 
ous enterprise,  sir,  and  when  we  shall  fuss  and 
noise  this  abroad,  the  other  papers  will  be  rav- 
ing mad  with  envy.  Ah,  a  thought  comes  to 
challenge  my  aching  brain — do  you  think  he'lL 
go  to  Hades  when  he  kills  himself?" 


28 

The  Sub-Editor  looked  troubled  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  his  face  broadened  as  he  re- 
plied : 

"  Sir,  the  gates  of  Heaven  are  forever  barred 
against  reporters." 

The  two  men  now  shook  hands  very  warmly, 
both  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  these  senti- 
ments, and  shared  the  remaining  contents  of 
another  wine  bottle  between  them,  and  then 
the  Editor  sat  down  energetically  upon  his 
broken  chair  and  cried  : 

"  My  dear  sir,  behold  your  chief! — a  new 
man  from  this  hour  forth  ;  nail  this  new  motto 
to  your  desk  : 

"  To  work,  to  work  ! 

For  we,  with  busy  pen  and  brain,  and  rant, 
Must  startle  the  world  with  this  achievement. 
Publish,  that  we  have  taken  this  in  hand 
To  curry  tidings  from  an  unknown  land  ; 
Then  we'll  pluck  Plutonian  newsberries, 
And  sarcasmize  cotemporaries." 

"  lyook,"  continued  the  Editor,  with  his 
hair  on  end  ;  "yonder  comes  a  man  to  whom 
I  owe  a  bill.  With  such  prospects  before  us, 
we  must  gain  time.  Sit  down,  man,  and  dash 
off: 

"This  paper  has  established  communications 
with  the  infernal  regions.  There  is  little 
doubt  but  that  our  creditors  will  reap  the  full 
benefit  of  this  connection. 

"Thk  New  York  Hooroarkr." 

The  Sub-Editor  wrote  it  as  directed,  and 
pasting  it  upon  the  outside  of  the  door,  soon 


29 


perceived  that  all  creditors  who  read  the  notice 
at  once  fled  in  dismay. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN     HADES. 

"  Well,  well,"  cried  Scribble-Scrub,  when  he 
awoke  and  found  himself  in  the  infernal 
regions ;  "  what  a  struggle  that  was  !  what  a 
wrench  grim  old  Death  did  give  me  !  what  a 
mystical  hold  a  soul  has  upon  organic  clay  ; 
but  me  and  the  old  house  are  parted,  and  what 
I  have  now  needs  no  osseous  ribs  to  distend 
it  ;  now  for  news  ;"  and  Scribble  began  to 
think  about  his  pencil  and  pad  ;  but  just  at 
that  moment  was  so  horrified  by  the  discordant 
noises  that  pervaded  the  place,  that  he  stood 
confused  and  irresolute. 

"Oh,  these  rumblings,"  he  muttered;  "is 
this  nightmare  or  forgery  foisted  upon  me  ? 
What  means  this  flickering  light  ?  Enough  of 
this.  Here  beginneth  the  first  chapter  of 
chronicles — news  for  the  morbid  appetite 
of  earthlings.  I  have  impinged  myself 
against  fate  for  news,  and  news  I  must  have. 
Away  flaccidity  and  act  or  you'll  never  bore  a 
hole  through  the  impenetrable  walls  of  Hell. 
Ha— ha  !  Now  I'll  laugh,  although  I'll  borrow 
the  hilarious  to  do  it  with  ;  ah,  ha,  ha,  ha  1 
How  funny  it  sounds  here  !  " 


30 

Scribble  here  laughed  several  times  at  inter- 
vals, but  it  was  evident  that  he  was  ill  at  ease, 
for  voices  seemed  to  mock  him,  yet  he  saw  no- 
body, so  talked  on  to  himself  : 

"I'll  carry  my  scroll  through  Hades  ;  depict 
stirring  episodes ;  spangle  my  story  with  an 
interview  with  Satan,  and  compile  a  book  of 
descriptions.  I  cannot  start  a  dailj'  here,  for 
there  is  no  day — tra -la-la — di-did  de.  Ho 
there — is  anyone  around  ?  Ha,  ha — ha,  ha  ; 
where  the  devil  is  the  devil  ?" 

Just  then  Scribble  was  startled  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  figure  emerging  from  behind  a 
huge  black  rock,  and  scarcely  had  he  noticed 
it  when  another  peeped  around  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  him. 

These  two  men  eyed  him  for  a  minute  sus- 
piciously, and  then,  apparently  satisfied  with 
their  observation,  came  toward  him. 

To  his  unutterable  surprise  and  astonishment, 
he  recognized  a  prominent  parson  and  a  pros- 
perous deacon  whom  he  had  known  on  earth. 

"  Why,  deacon,"  cried  Scribble,  as  he  ad- 
vanced with  extended  hand  to  greet  him, 
*'  what  brings  you  her^  ?  " 

"Wrecking  railroads,"  replied  the  deacon, 
with  a  sickly  smile. 

The  parson  did  not  even  attempt  to  smile, 
but  was  extremely  crestfallen,  and  after  look- 
ing very  nervously  around  him,  as  if  he  ex- 
pected some  one  to  pounce  upon  him  from  be- 


31 

liind  the  rocks,  he   came   towards    Scribble 
muttering  : 

"Why  am  I  supplemented  by  this  disfigured 
and  damned  corporation  of  juiceless  ducts — 
this  substitute  for  flesh— this  shriveled  collat- 
teral  for  nerves  and  capillaries  ?  Can  I  ever 
undue  the  kink  in  my  face — a  soft,  putty  face 
— a  lank,  saffron  face,  in  litigation  with  my 
liver?"  And  then,  striking  a  rather  dramatic 
attitude,  he  exclaimed  with  a  generous  amount 
of  feeling  : 

"  Oh  !  could  I  but  move  these  ebon  rocks 

To  inurn  me  like  a  toad, 
Within  these  basaltic  blocks, 

I'd  make  Oblivion  my  abode." 

Here  Scribble-Scrub  slapped  the  dominie  on 
the  back  and  said  to  him,  "  Cheer  up,  old 
fellow.     All's  well  that  ends  well." 

''  Will  it  end  well  ?"  queried  the  parson,  or 

Must  I  with  imps  with  fiery  breath,  in  spasms, 
Dance  headlong,  pell  mell  down  the  lurid  chasms  ? 

*'Must  I  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  recovered  and  looked 

at  the  two  men. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ANTICS  OF  A    MURDKRER. 

''To  cover,"  cried  Scribble-Scrub,  as  with 
sudden  energy,  he  sprang  behind  a  huge  rock, 
followed  by  his  two  companions. 


32 


A  murderous  looking  individual  here  came 
upon  the  scene,  swaggering  as  he  walked  and 
talking  thus  to  himself  : 

"Thank  Hell  that  I  am  not  alone.  This 
murky  institution  taxes  earth's  unsparing  con- 
tribution. Every  day  a  cargo  is  landed,  and 
I  did  hear  say  that  very  soon  new  hinges  would 
be  needed  on  hell's  well  used  door.  I  was  a 
murderer  on  earth,  and  will  ply  my  vocation 
here.  So  I  told  Baron  Fate  and  Countess 
Infanticide.  Come,  you  clown,  let  me  cut  you 
up." 

This  last  sentence  was  shouted  at  and  ad- 
dressed to  another  villainous  looking  figure 
that  was  limping  along  not  far  away,  who  re- 
plied : 


33 

"  Now,  my  murderous  friend,  tame  your  little 
falchion.  Tame  it,  I  say!"  he  roared,  as  the 
murderer  approached  him. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  murderer  as  he  rushed 
up  to  the  other  ;  "  there,  let  me  hack  you  so !" 
and  then  savagely  struck  the  figure  as  it  ran 
away. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  repeated  the  same  exer- 
cise upon  another  figure,  striking  it  with  an 
axe,  crying  out  as  it  ran  away,  "I'll  ampu- 
tate you.  Oh,  this  is  salubrious,  and  then  sing- 
ing in  a  cracked  voice, 

"I'll  flout  the  first  devil  I  meet,  tra,  la, 
I'll  flout  the  first  devil  I  meet." 

Just  then   about  twenty  demons  with  tri- 
dents and  fire-brands  came  along,  and  the  mur- 
derer at  once   attacked   them;  but  in  a  few- 
minutes  he   was    surrounded,  and  shouted, 
"Hold,  unskewer  me." 

But  they  pressed  him  harder  until  he  cried 
out  in  terror  : 

**  Away,  blinking  flame  ; 

Too  soon  I  thought  that  hell  was  tame. 

Oh,  oh,  my  open  sores 

Are  flues,  in  which  your  little  furnace  roars. 

Don't  urge  such  cogency,  don't,  please." 

Here  one  of  the  demons  replied  : 

**  But  what  a  whim  to  hear  him  cry, 
Hell  not  for  I. " 

The   murderer  looked  searchingly   around 
into  the  faces  of  the  twenty  demons,  and   see- 


34 

ing  obduracy  written  upon  their  hard,  visages, 

gasped  out : 

"Now,  God  help  me,  for  if  He  don't 
I've  a  presentiment  that  the  devil  won't." 

Twentj^  voices  here  replied  in   unison  "deep 
and  loud  : 

"As  our  forks  are  in  you  bent 
We  have  that  presentiment ; 

**Now   down    to  the   vitriol  lake,"  and  very 

soon  a  demon  stuck  a  trident   into   his  back 

and  carried  him  over  his  shoulder  and  pitched 

liim   into  a  precipice  not  fifty  5^ards  away,  and 

as  he  fell  he  heard  the  imps,  in  chorus,  chant 

his  own  impromptu  ditty, 

"I'll  flout  the  first  devil  I  meet,  tra  la, 
I'll  flout  the  first  devil  I  meet." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DEJMONS   CAPTURK  THI)    PARSON. 

Scribble-Scrub  and   the    deacon  were  just 

then  having  an  interesting  conversation  upon 

the  chances  of  ever  getting  out  of  Hades,  when 

the  parson  thoughtlessly  said,  a  little  too  loud  : 

"  If  God  don't  guard  this  heated  pit, 
There's  hope  for  them  with  sharpened  wit. 
If  we  escape  'tis  certain  God  don't  mind  us, 
And  if  we  don't,  the  devil's  sure  to  find  us." 

*'  Dead  sure  !"  cried  a  chorus  of  voices  again 
in  deep-toned  unison,  and  the  twenty  demons 
surrounded  the  three  men. 


35 

*'  O  Lord,"  cried  the  parson,  as  he  sank 
fainting  into  the  arms  of  one  of  the  demons, 
and  then  in  a  light-headed  way  cried,  ' '  I^et  us 
sing  to  the  praise  and  glory  " 

"It's  the  parson,"  cried  all  the  voices,  this 
time  in  confusion. 

Now,  when  any  important  personage  came 
to  Hell,  Satan  was  always  glad  to  see  them, 
and  hearing  of  such  an  unusual  thing  as  the  ar- 
rival of  a  parson,  had  offered  to  make  a  lord 
out  of  any  common  devil  that  might  first 
bring  to  him  that  individual,  hence  the  con- 
fusion. 

In  an  instant  they  were  all  struggling  and 
fighting  over  and  on  the  parson. 

*'  Never  did  avalanche  of  sin  so  assail  the 
poor  dominie  !"  cried  Scribble,  as  he  and  the 
deacon  ran  away  in  the  greatest  perturbation. 

The  struggle  for  the  possession  of  this  im- 
portant prisoner  was  now  of  short  duration  ; 
for  it  was  a  desperate  exhibition  of  a  rough 
and  tumble  battle. 

''  You're  my  prize,  dominie  !"  cried  one  imp, 
as  he  tugged  at  an  arm. 

'*  Back,  imps!"  shouted  another  demon,  as 
he  shot  a  ball  of  green  fire  out  of  his  mouth, 
into  another  demon's  eye  ;  * '  back,  I  say.  I 
claim  this  nugget.  I'll  pre-empt  this ;"  and 
he  caught  hold  of  the  other  arm  and  held  on 
until  a  yellow  ball  of  fire  from  a  most  furious 
demon  knocked  him  twenty  feet  away, 

**  Plague  on  it !"  yelled  another,  whose  hold 


36 

had  been  disengaged  by  a  blue  blazing  oc  ke 
that  had  struck  him  between  the  eyes,  but 
who  had  returned  and  caught  hold  of  a  leg  of 
the  parson — "plague  on  it !  Lose  this  chance 
to  become  a  lord  ?     Never  !     Never  !" 

In   the    succeeding  scuffle,    which  became 
very  violent,  the  parson  was  torn  to  pieces, 


and  one  demon  ran  off  with  a  leg,  another  with 
an  arm,  and  another  with  the  head,  until  all 
had  departed  except  two  demons,  one  of  whom 
picked  up  the  parson's  heart  that  had  dropped 
in  the  struggle. 

"  How  full  'tis  stuffed  !  "  cried  he. 

"Stuffed  !  What's  stuffed  ?"  replied  the  other. 

''  Mummy,"  said  the  first  one  again  ;  **  don't 
you  see  his  heart  ?  Look  !  This  is  where  the 
misused  valve  was,  which  opened  and  shut  and 


37 

let  his  thick  blood  in  hot  streams  wash  desires 
into  his  brain  to  damn  him." 

''  How  chocked  it  is  !  " 

''What's  chocked?" 

"The  valve.  See  it,  as  I  hold  it  this  way. 
Now  do  you  see  it  ?" 

*'  Yes,  yes  ;  howfull  it  is.    What  gorges  it  so  ?" 

' '  See  !  regrets  are  its  chief  contents  ;  and 
here  is  smothered  tranquility,  and  here  a  little 
patch  of  rectitude — misshapen — crushed  ;  even 
veins  cast  around  like  nets  are  swollen,  double 
laden  with  regrets.     Come,  let's  to  Satan." 


CHAPTKR  VII. 

NOBI,KMKN   CRKATKD   IN   HEI.I.. 

''Your  Majesty,"  cried  a  demon  as  he  en- 
tered breathlessly  into  Satan's  presence  and 
laid  down  a  burden,  "I  have  lowered  that  that 
should  elevate  me.     The  parson's  head,  sire." 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  another  demon 
ran  in  and  threw  down  an  arm;  then  said,  as 
he  pointed  to  it:  "Hail,  monarch  !  there  it 
hts— my  promotion  should  come  with  that 
reverend  limb." 

Then  another  ran  in  with  a  leg  and  side,  and 
still  another  came  and  ranged  the  parts  to- 
gether, so  that  Satan  asked  : 

"Is  that  the  parson?" 

The  demons  had  all  formed  a  circle  around 


38 

the  dismembered  body,  and  at  Satan's  question 
every  one  turned  a  double  somersault,  and 
shouted  in  unison  :    **  It  is  he  !     It  is  he  !  " 

"  You  have  mauled  him  out  of  shape,"  re- 
turned the  King  of  Hell.  ' '  Now  raise  him 
up,  and,  my  boys — good  boys  all — embrocate 
him." 

Immediately  twenty  hands  propped  him  up, 
and  Satan  intoned  the  following  incantation: 

* '  Torn  parts,  amend, 
Together  blend 
And  make  you  whole. 
Now,  enter  soul, 
Mind,  fertilize. 
Now  open  eyes. 
Steady — steady  ! 
Now  'tis  ready." 

They  all  waited  for  a  moment ;  then  Satan, 
apparently  a  little  worried,  continued :  "It 
doesn't  vivify — what  ails  it  ?  Good  boys  all, 
what  ails  it  ?  " 

A  demon  here  shouted  out  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  which  was  up  to  C:  "He's,  lost  his 
pluck,  sire.' ' 

Just  then  comes  one  running  in,  crying  in  a 
basso  profundo  voice,  "  By  this  tiller  of  his  soul, 
am  I  late  ?  Is  he  all  joined  up  ?  This  is  his 
pluck."  And  the  demon  threw  down  the  heart. 

''Open  a  cavity,"  roared  Satan  in  a  rage, 
"  and  fill  up  his  void." 

This  being  done,  and  the  parts  put  in  place, 
Satan  repeated  the  incantation,  and  the  parson 
opened  his  eyes. 


39 

Satan  smiled.     So  did  all  the  little  devils. 

"  Where  have  I  been  ?  "  asked  the  parson. 

"To  pieces,"  returned  a  chorus  of  voices, 
and  ever3'one  turned  a  somersault. 

"And  not  well  mended — by  my  feelings," 
answered  the  parson,  looking  very  frightened 
at  Satan,  and  then  added  :  "  Ah,  yes  ;  now  I 
remember  where  I  am." 

Just  then  Scribble  Scrub  and  the  deacon 
were  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  King  in 
the  following  manner: 

About  fifty  demons  were  marching  in  perfect 
order,  their  pitchforks  pointing  in  the  air,  and 
Scribble-Scrub  and  the  deacon  being  full 
length  upon  their  backs  with  the  prongs 
sticking  through  them. 


40 

*' Halt !"  commanded  Satan,  and  the  con- 
course stopped. 

"  Deliver !"  thundered  the  King,  and  the 
two  men  were  pitched  down  in  front  of  him, 
and  held  in  position  by  the  tridents. 

'*  Draw  !  "  shouted  Satan,  and  every  prong 
was  instantly  pulled  out  of  the  two  men. 

"Thankee,  sir,"  cried  Scribble-Scrub,  and 
rising,  he  politely  bowed  to  Satan,  and  added, 
*'  I  am  very  much  obliged  for  your  inter- 
ference. Sir,  the  Hooroarer  never  forgets  a 
kindness  like  this  ;  more  than  ever  shall  it  aid 
your  Majesty." 

The  three  prisoners  now  whispered  together 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  the  reporter  ad- 
vanced to  Satan  and  said  : 

"  May  it  please  your  Majesty,  as  our  hearts 
are  bent  on  seeing  you  in  state  and  parliament, 
grant  us  this  request." 

Satan  at  once  bowed  his  acquiescence,  and 
then  added,  "Since  our  realm  is  so  much  in- 
debted to  your  craft — for  I  swear  many  a  poor 
soul  has  been  damned  through  suicide  caused 
by  newspaper  misrepresentation — many  a  mur- 
der committed,  and  whole  seas  of  bad  blood 
engendered  by  the  same  means — therefore 
touch  my  royal  sceptre.  (Scribble  here  touched 
it)  You  are  in  favor,  sir,  The  Hooroarer  is  in 
favor,  sir,  and  every  lying  newspaper  is  in 
favor,  sir;  and  so  is  old  Doughface  (Satan 
pointed  to  the  parson),  and  so  is  the  deacon — 
beloved  in  fact — because  he  *vatered  stocks  and 


41 

cornered  wheat  and  prayed  at  meeting."  "  Ah  ! 
ah  ! — ah  !  ah  ! "  shouted  the  chorus  of  demons, 
and  all  revolved  again  in  their  peculiar  way, 
and  then  Satan,  knocking  several  down,  for 
he  was  in  high  spirits,  said  to  those  who  had 
brought  in  the  parson  : 

' '  Now  imps,  before  me  knell ;  rise  one  degree, 
And  take  your  place  with  hell's  nobility." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

REVIVAI,  SKRVICKS. 

The  three  men,  now  having  permission  to  go 
where  they  pleased  without  fear  of  molesta- 
tion, sauntered  toward  Pandemonium  Hall,  but 
having  several  hours  to  spare  before  Parlia- 
ment sat,  the  parson,  who  was  a  Methodist, 
proposed  that  they  start  revival  services. 

Scribble  slapped  his  hand  upon  his  knee,  and 
shouted,  *'  Capital !  Splendid  !  Now  I'll  have 
something  worth  telling.  This  shall  boom 
The  Hooroarer'!'  but  the  deacon,  who  was  a 
Baptist,  looked  dubious,  and  shaking  his  head, 
contended  that  it  was  inconsistent  and  out  of 
place. 

But  in  spite  of  this  protest,  in  a  very  little 
while  a  revival  meeting  was  in  full  blast,  for 
the  parson  prided  himself  that  he  was  a 
Methodist  to  the  back-bone,  and  had  already 
picked   out  a  site   for  a  church,  f^r  he  said 


42 

only  Methodism  can  change  hell  into  heaven, 
and  then  had  coaxed  or  pulled  about  two 
hundred  up  to  the  penitent  form,  and  having 
told  his  hearers  that  he  had  a  mortgage 
upon  God  that  no  other  individual  pos- 
sessed, and  had  cornered  the  stock  of  all 
the  railroads  running  to  heaven,  and  had  got 
the  directors  at  his  mercy,  so  that  only  he 
could  issue  free  passes,  and  that  it  was  an  easy 
thing  to  become  converted  if  they  did  as  he 
said,  begged  them  to  yield  to  his  persuasions,- 
at  the  same  time  promising  all  kinds  of 
impossibilities,  and  that  they  should  ever 
drink  when  they  were  dry  good  cold  croton 
ice  water — only  believe  it.  "  Brethren,'*  he 
shouted,  "  only  believe  it,  and  if  you  don't* 
Satan  will  order  the  stokers  on  double  shifts." 

Having  thus  terrified  them  as  well  as  bam- 
boozled them  into  believing,  he  then  made  a 
public  announcement  that  everj'-  man  Jack  of 
them  (meaning  all  of  the  two  hundred)  had 
been  converted. 

Another  one,  being  terrified  at  the  prospect 
of  the  stokers  going  on  double  time,  being 
asked  if  he  believed,  answered  :  "  Yes,  what  is 
it?" 

"That's  it!"  cried  the  parson,  "here's 
another — two  hundred  and  one;"  and  then, 
being  fearful  lest  the  deacon  might  get  up  a 
meeting  on  account  of  the  Baptists,  and  so 
head  him  off,  he  hurriedly  shouted  :  "I^et'smake 
it  three  hundred." 


43 

The  deacon  ventured  to  suggest  that  not  one 
was  truly  converted,  but  the  parson  replied, 
that  anyhow  they  were  converted  to  Metho- 
dism in  general  and  to  him  in  particular,  and 
that  was  the  principal  thing,  and  then  added, 
**  I^et  us  sing  three  stanzas  of  430." 

The  deacon,  burning  with  envy,  now  sent  a 
secret  messenger  to  Satan  to  come  and  put  an 
end  to  such  inconsistency  in  Hell.  ''Come, 
your  Majesty,"  he  wrote,  *' for  if  you  don't, 
this  man  will  soon  be  holding  regular  quarterly 
conferences. '  * 

When  Satan  heard  of  the  proceedings  he  was 
in  such  a  rage  that  he  tumbled,  and  rolled,  and 
bounced  all  the  way  till  he  rushed  into  the 
meeting. 

"Hold!"  he  shouted. 

Satan's  words  are  here  reported  verbatim, 
for  as  reporters  alway  reproduce  everything 
exactly,  Scribble  was  no  exception  to  this  un- 
alterable rule. 

All  was  silence  except  among  the  converts, 
and  they  were  all  making  a  great  noise. 

''What's  that  noise?"  asked  Satan,  putting 
on  his  helmet  with  the  two  great  horns  in  it. 

"  It's  the  converts  quarreling,  sir,"  volun- 
teered the  deacon,  rubbing  his  hand^. 

Satan's  face  lit  up  at  once,  and  he  replied 
with  a  genial  smile  : 

"  Go  on  with  your  meeting.  There's  noth- 
ing  inconsistent  here." 


^4 
CHAPTER  IX. 

PANDEMONIUM — I,ORD  AI,COHOI.'S  SPEECH. 

Pandemonium  Hall  was  an  immense  amphi- 
theatre, crowded  with  devils.  The  parson  and 
deacon,  with  Scribbles,  were  there  near  Satan, 
who  was  sitting  on  his  throne. 

After  a  little  while  Satan  rose  and  thus  ad- 
dressed the  hosts : 

"  My  lords  and  denizens  of  the  bottomless 
pit,  I  convene  you  to-night,  to  urge  the  final 
settlement  of  a  stupendous  question.  lyords 
Alcohol  and  Gormandize  have  quarreled  ;  each 
calls  himself  the  greater  ;  they  will  here  each 
discuss  their  separate  claims  to  greatness,  and 
you,  by  vote,  will  be  called  upon  to  decide 
which  is  the  greatest.  Now,  noble  coadjutors, 
before  we  all  proceed  to  the  business  — I  say, 

"  Before  warm  business  is  brought  on, 

lyet's  warmer  get  and  sing  our  tiery  battle  song." 

The  deacon  whispered  to  Scribbles  that  he 
never  felt  less  like  shivering  in  all  his  days,  and 
wondered  how  much  hotter  Satan  wanted  it. 

"  Sing !"  shouted  Satan,  and  all  Pande- 
monium burst  forth  in  the  following  lines  : 

*'  Lift  up  the  royal  banner 

Of  black  ill-will  and  hate  ; 
Tongues,  raise  a  lusty  clamor  ; 
Lungs,  draw  a  wide  inflate, 
And  shout  at  inspiration's  busy  word, 

'Iniquity 


45 

And  we  will  ever  meet, 
Like  earthlings,  our  defeat, 
And  cry  louder  the  greater  the  defeat, 

O  victory  I 

Proud  is  our  noble  King 
Of  earth,  which  is  his  Queen  ; 
For  this  dainty  prize  we'll  gorge  and  load  with 

Tnfamy. 

May  greed  and  pestilence 
Defeat  proud  abst  nence, 
And  war  and  grim  death  be  ever  crowned  with 

Victory. 

Our  forces  then  shall  go 
And  drag  all  earth  below, 
And  unveil  the  workings  of  our  lurking 

Destiny* 

So  Hell,  by  Heaven  defeated, 
By  Hell  shall  Heaven  be  greeted 
By  cries  of  woe  on  earth  Hell's  loud  shrieking 

Victory." 

At  the  end  of  the  screechings  the  parson 
wiped  his  face  and  cried  in  the  deacon's  ear  : 
' '  This  is  an  infernal  Bedlam,  and  my  liques- 
cense  is  on  the  simmer  now  ;  how  much  hotter 
is  it  going  to  get  ?" 

Satan  now  introduced  without  any  ceremony 
the  lyord  Alcohol,  telling  the  waiting  and  ex- 
pectant audience  that  he  would  then  and  there 
state  his  case. 

As  Satan  finished  the  introduction,  there 
was  much  applause,  and  it  was  evident  that 
my  Lord  Alcohol  had  many  warm  firiends  in 
the  audience.     Thus  he  began  : 

'*  Denizens  of  Hell,  I  will  not  wanton  on  or- 
atorical magniloquence.      Facts  pillowed  by 


46 

proofs  and  rough  as  rocks  I'll  hurl  forth  and 
prove  my  right  to  hold  supremacy.  I,  sirs, 
like  the  turbid  race  of  an  angry  flood,  have 
hurled  devastation  upon  earth — have  sub- 
merged her  deep  in  an  ocean  sprung  from  Hell. 
Drink  ! — men  sip,  dip,  bathe  and  drown  in 
it.  Like  an  octopus  I  seize,  and  down  they 
come.  Facilis  est  descensus  averni.  Yes,  they 
topple  easy." 

Here  there  was  great  commotion  among  the 
audience,  and  Satan  informed  Alcohol  that 
Hell's  inhabitants  were  irascibly  explosive, 
and  objected  to  the  dead  languages,  after 
which  the  tumult  ceased  and  Alcohol  con- 
tinued : 

**  Fellow  denizens,  I,  Alcohol,  am  an  im- 
perial blister — a  cataplasm  for  man's  busy 
brain,  to  draw  his  fine  reason  into  his  toes — 
pervert  this  delicate  machine  called  man — 
man  who,  like  the  coprophagous,  feeds  on  filth 
and  imbibes  that  which  destroys  health  ;  yes, 
sirs,  my  aids  are  imbruters — wines,  brandies, 
Tvhiskies,  gin.  These  death  scythes,  forged  in 
heated  corruption,  are  fitting  implements  for 
man's  destruction." 

At  this  juncture  the  friends  of  Gormandize 
began  to  hiss,  and  so  Alcohol,  after  waiting  a 
moment,  proceeded  : 

**  Lords  and  devils,  they  who  would  blunt 
my  points  have  intellects  impassioned  out  of 
joint  Let  me  ask,  who  fills  earth's  gray  jails 
with  criminals — who?  Who  corrodes  and  clogs 


47 

that  fine  machine,  man  ?  Who  besmears  his 
journals  and  joints  to  make  him  hasten,  like 
an  unratcheted  clock,  to  a  quick  end  of  use- 
fulness— who  ?    I. " 

And  Alcohol  stood  up  proudly,  and  beat  his 
chest,  then  continued  in  tragic  accents  : 

"  I  charter  the  Hps  to  carry  foul  words  ; 
I  churn  human  kindness's  milk  to  curds  ; 
Burden  earth  with  taxes,  break  kind  hearts, 
Transfix  communities  with  my  darts  ; 
Unseat  minds,  enmix  family  blots, 
Inculcate  madness,  impress  idiots. 
Leave  trace  of  my  damning,  on  occasion, 
From  generation  to  generation." 

Scrubble-Scrub  here  intimated  to  the  deacon 
that  it  was  getting  much  warmer,  and  the 
deacon  replied  that  he  needed  no  reminder, 
while  the  parson  also  declared  that  he  wanted 
no  starched  cravats  to  wilt  with  him.  At  the 
same  moment  Alcohol  burst  forth  with  in- 
creased eloquence  : 

"  Hear  me,  O  Hell.  My  vast  actions  are  so 
insidious,  and  so  deftly  do  I  set  my  sliding 
snare  that  it  is  as  a  bridge  that  passes  under- 
neath man's  steps  ;  he  need  not  walk,  but 
simply  lend  his  feet,  and  I' 11  place  them  on  what 
feels  like  solid  rock,  but  the  next  step  is  treach- 
erous as  the  quicksand's  hidden  mouth,  and 
the  next  he  steps  into  a  chasm — mouth  of 
Hell.  Oh,  sweet  white  temptings  gliding  into 
black  ;  so  subtly  can  I  change  from  white  that 
men  are  dark  before  they  know  'tis  night. 
(Much  cheering).  I  end  salubrity  with  miasm, 
suckle  men  on  bosoms  of  raging  streams,  and 


48 

paint  whirlpools,  rapids,  and  cataracts  as  pic- 
tures of  placidity.  (Cheers.)  How  can  I  liken 
my  power — as  a  wedge  starting  from  a  razor 
edge  and  ending  in  a  mountain  hilt  ?  or  is  it 
like  a  tempest  launched  on  earth,  belched  forth 
by  the  artillery  of  Hell  ? 

"Or  like  a  sly  and  stealthy  catamount  ? 
Or  like  a  brook  envenomed  at  the  fount? 
Or  like  a  lion  sinewed  for  the  fray  ? 
Or  like  a  tiger  gliding  on  its  prey  ? 
Or  like  the  vulture  darkening  the  sky  ? 
Or  like  the  wolf  amidst  the  lambs  I  lie  ? 
Or  like  an  arrow  glancing  thro'  the  air  ? 
Or  like  a  serpent  coiled  in  its  lair  ? 
Or  like  hilarious  life  without  a  cloud  ? 
Or  like  skeleton  death  holding  the  shroud  ? 
These  likes  are  echoing,  thundering  mutes, 
Forms,  shapes,  prototypes,  are  my  attributes. 

* '  All  pressed  in  my  embroilic  government 
Sirs,  am  not  I  the  greatest  ?  (I^oud  cries  of 
yes,  3^es,  and  cheers.)  Can  Gormandize  heap 
up  such  claims  as  these  ?  Towers  his  preten- 
tions with  over-feeding  over  ours  with  over- 
drinking ?     Here  I  finish  at  the  climacteric." 

Amidst  great  and  prolonged  applause   lyord 
Alcohol  now  sat  down. 


CHAPTER  X. 

GORMANDIZE  AND  THK  G^NTI^KM^N   OF   HKI.I.. 

When  the  applause  had  ceased  Satan  intro- 
duced Lord  Gormandize,  who  was  also  very 
flatteringly  received  with     applause,    which, 


49 

being  ended,  he  abruptly  addressed  them  : 
"Hell-hounds!" 

It  was  fully  ten  minutes  before  order  could 
be  restored,  so  exasperated  were  the  crowd, 
and  then  a  demon,  whose  name  was  Deliriurn 
Tremens,  called  out  that  the  speaker  owed  Hell 
an  apology. 

Satan  hereupon  nodded  to  Gormandize,  who 
again  bowed  and  said  : 
''Gentlemen  of  Hell." 

''Ah  !  ah!  ah  !"  shouted  a  hundred  thous- 
and voices,  and  there  was  a  great  and  satisfac- 
tory rubbing  of  hands  all  over  the  immense 
audience  room. 

Scribble  whispered  into  the  deacon's  ear  and 
said  : 

"  What  says  the  mercury,  my  boy?" 

The  deacon  took  a  thermometer  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  scanning  it,  replied  :  * '  Two  hund- 
red and  tw^enty — and  rising." 

The  parson,  who  was  complaining  of  pi- 
quant pains,  here  expressed  a  wish  that  he  had 
been  born  a  walrus,  and  longed  to  be  at  that 
moment  swimming  between  icebergs. 

"Gentlemen  of  Hell,"  reiterated  I,ord  Gor- 
mandize, and  it  could  be  noticed  that  a  rather 
sinister  expression  overspread  his  countenance 
as  he  said  it ;  but  he  soon  braced  himself  and 
continued : 

'*  Alcohol  has  lain  with  polemics,  but  has  not 
produced  conclusive  logic  ;  and  I  would  scorn 
to  be  guilty  oiargiimentum  ad igtiorayitiamy  for  ; 


5^ 

"  Golden  words  lie  had  none, 

And  silver  words  went  to  bed  ; 
His  brass  words  longed  for  the  sun, 

And  his  copper  were  dull  as  lead, 
But  his  handsomest  words  were  the  words  unsaid. 

"Which,  as  he  did  not  use,  are  mine  to 
handle  (jeers  and  laughter.)  I  will  not  pla}^ 
the  infretting  reamer,  to  pierce,  gnaw  and  nib- 
ble his  argument,  (cries  of  oh  !  oh  !)  nor  under- 
rate the  impact  of  his  dispute,  nor  impeach  the 
loyalty  of  his  aids,  those  spirits  which  are  not 
divine;  for  if  my  point  of  argument  be  narrow 
the  cumulation  shall  be  wide.  lyisten,  O  Hell. 
I,  Gormandize,  work  wreck  and  ruin  on  man's 
Hver,  (cries  of  How  ?  How  ?)  derange  man's 
spleen  and  milt,  and  put  his  long  stomach  on 
the  rack,  corrode  and  bile  the  liver,  obfuscate 
the  kidneys,  and  grow  pliant  mysteries  to  kill 
man's  senses.  (Jeers,  and  cries  of  How  ? 
How?)  Patience,  gentlemen.  (I^oud  laugh- 
ter.) Napoleon  never  reached  the  moon  because 
he  climed  too  high — too  soon.  (Cries  of  Oh  ! 
oh  1)  lyisten  ;  when  more  food  is  taken  than 
the  organs  can  digest,  then  more,  then  the  law- 
iul  excrement  goes  to  the  liver.  It  in  its  turn, 
angered  at  the  burden  to  be  borne,  shoves  out 
the  foul  intruder  into  the  blood,  and  thus  poisons 
the  life  ;  for  each  drop  of  blood  is  soon  in  or- 
ganized rebellion.  (Cheers.)  Thus  inveigled 
by  palatable  lubrications,  man's  brow  soon 
scowls  at  fancied  injuries,  for  each  drop  of  thus 
charged  blood  holds  scores  of  leaping  animal- 
cules, who  prick  and  probe  and  fret  the  nerves, 


51 

sow  germs  in  hypochondriac  soil,  and  grow 
morbid  emotions.  I,  Gormandize,  induce 
gangrenous  .complaints.  Ulcers,  sores,  and 
pustules  come  as  the  bubblings  of  an  inward 
foam.  I  impose  dementia,  brain  indurations, 
hemicrany  and  lesser  shades  of  imbecility  ;  the 
idiot's  presbyotic  eye  lies  as  yet  unborn,  dor- 
mant in  the  glutton's  loins.  (Cheers  and  cries 
of  Ah !  ah  !)  Choler,  malice  and  mad  in- 
clinations are  often  bred  by  liver's  inflamma- 
tions ;  revolting  murders  done  by  unsecreted 
bile.  (Vociferous  cheering.)  Torpid  liver 
brings  family  divisions,  melancholia  and  sui- 
cide ;  for,  gentlemen,  (laughter,) 

"  The  abuse  of  food  has  ten  thousand  ills  ; 

For  he  who  eats  too  much  his  senses  kills. 

Hell  is  enriched  by  this  exhaustless  wealth  ; 

Men  curse  and  swear  most  when  they're  poor  in  health, 

''What  says  Alcohol  to  this?  " 

Amidst  great  cheers  and  uproar,  Gormandize 
now  sat  down. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  STORM   ARISING. 

Satan  here  came  forward,  and  turning  to  the 
two  orators,  said  :  "  I  thank  you  both  for  ex- 
hibiting what  so  few  orators  in  this  present 
day  possess — brevity. '  * 

"The  Duke  of  Delirium  Tremens  has  the 


52 

floor" — and  Satan  bowed  lo  that  horrible  devil 
as  he  came  forward.  We  do  not  wish  to 
frighten  our  readers  with  a  description  of  this 
fellow.  You  who  have  imaginative  capacities 
may  do  a  little  exercise  in  this  direction  if  yci 
wish.  He  was  the  strangest  speaker  Scribble 
ever  recorded  anything  of,  either  on  earth  or 
in  Hell.  He  spoke  just  four  lines.  The  first 
line  he  jerked  out  with  great  rapidity  ;  the 
second  line  he  seemed  to  be  fully  five  minutes 
dragging  through,  and  the  last  two  lines  he 
shrieked  out  while  he  stood  on  his  head  : 

* '  Weigh  out  the  sorrows, 
Measure  the  horrors, 
Our  invasion 
Is  black  damnation." 

Then  springing  to  his  feet,  he  shouted  :  ''  I 
claim  judgment  for  my  Lord  Alcohol.  He 
leads  in  peopling  Hell."  (Great  commotion 
and  cheers.) 

Viscount  Dyspepsia  here  took  the  floor,  and 

asking  the  audience  to  listen  to  him,  said  : . 

"  Hollow  cheek  and  sunken  eye, 
Misery  and  causeless  sigh, 
Palid  face  and  belching  throe, 
We  are  mortal's  greatest  foe. 
Over-eating  our  invasion. 
Blacker  than  the  black  damnation. 

"I  claim  for  my  Lord  Gormandize."  (Tre- 
mendous disorder.) 

Duke  Delirium  Tremens  now  asked  for  a 
division  of  the  house  to  settle  the  question,  and 
Satan,  jumping  up,  cried  in  a  thundering  voice, 
which  was  heard  above  the  din  : 


53 

**  Ready  for  the  question,  O  Pandemonium  ?" 

The  immense  and  turbulent  audience  at  once 
clamored  for  a  division,  and  a  vote  was  taken, 
but  it  was  found  impossible  to  determine 
which  side  had  it,  so  great  was  the  confusion. 

Scribble -Scrub  wiped  his  face  as  best  he 
could,  and  said  to  the  deacon  : 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  deacon,  there's  too 
much  genius  here.  It's  going  to  end  in  a  riot ; 
mark  it,  my  boy.  Riot  and  genius  go 
together  now-a-days." 

The  parson  also  turned  to  the  deacon  and' 
said,  as  he  tried  to  fan  himself: 

"  I  pray  this  tumult  may  soon  cease,  deacon." 
But  the  deacon  was  mad  and  retorted  : 

"  I  hope  sincerely  that  it's  the  last  useless 
prayer  5^ou'll  ever  make  dominie.  How's  the 
thermometer,  Scribble  ?  What  !  writing  for  the 
Hoo roarer  H 

"  Its  three  hundred  and  seventy,  and  rising 
fast.  The  Hooroarer — yes,"  returned  Scrib- 
ble, doing  my  duty  in  this  scorching,  blister- 
ing furnace,  and  when  I  get  back  and  send  the 
circulation  up  to  half  a  million,  you'll  see  a 
long  article  written  on  the  energy  and  enter- 
prise of  the  owners  of  the  Hooroarer^  while 
poor  I  will  be  kicked  out  of  the  business." 

The  deacon  here  pushed  a  demon  away  from 
him,  and  cried  as  he  did  so  :  ''  Give  me  breath- 
ing room,  will  you  ?  Don't  dowell  your  arms 
into   my  body  ;  this  is  concentrated   summer 


54 

with  a  vengeance.  Scribble,  how  now — what 
says  the  mercury  ?" 

"  Four  hundred  and  fifty,"  returned  the  re- 
porter, as  he  panted  and  puffed  and  scribbled 
on. 

The  demon  whom  the  deacon  had  pushed 
now  shot  him  with  a  ball  of  blue-blazing  brim- 
stone, which  enveloped  him  in  flame  and 
caused  some  confusion  among  the  other 
demons,  who  put  the  flames  out  and  flung  the 
deacon  against  the  other  fellow  ;  and  there  is 
no  telling  when  this  rumpus  might  have  ended 
had  not  Satan  again,  in  no  uncertain  tones, 
called  the  meeting  to  order. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DESPERATE. 

"Oh,  for  the  luxury  of  frostbitten  ears,'* 
cried  the  parson  ;  "  delirium  must  be  dancing 
with  the  thermometer.  What  says  it  now. 
Scribble?" 

"'Tis  done  to  death,  dominie  ;  it  can't  go 
any  higher — five  hundred  and  over." 

"Here's  a  pyrometer,"  interrupted  the 
deacon;  "it  says  seven  hundred  and  fifty; 
there  must  be  wind  at  the  back  of  this  forge  ; 
look  over  yonder ;  'tis  heated  to  transparency.'* 

Just  at  that  moment  Satan  gained  their  at- 
tention long  enough  to  inform  the  assembly 


55 

that  the  two  contestants  must  settle  their  con- 
troversy in  a  regular  pitched  battle. 

This  announcement  was  followed  by  the 
wildest  excitement,  and  shrill  shrieks  of  ap- 
proval from  thousands  of  throats  added  to  the 
confusion. 

"  'Tis  twelve  hundred  now.  and  getting  quite 
uncomfortable,"  cried  Scribble.  '"The  pyro- 
meter is  tearing  mad — rising — rising." 

The  deacon  turned  to  the  parson  and  gasped 
out : 

"  How  do  you  feel,  dominie  ?  Just  look  at 
the  pyrometer — fourteen  hundred  now." 

"  D the  pyrometer  !"  desperately  returned 

the  parson.  "  I  want  no  sliding  gauge  to  im- 
part knowledge  to  my  feelings.  I  want  no 
conveyancer.     I   know   enough.     I  say  I  feel 

enough.     D the  pyrometer  and   the  heat 

and  the  fighters.  Brimstone  !  Pitch  and  pitch- 
fork !     Let  me  out  of  this. 

"  Cursed  be  the  hour  when  we 
Had  to  wait  on  deviltry." 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

AN  IGNOBI^K    CONFLICT. 

In  a  little  while  Alcohol  and  Gormandize 
were  in  close  and  deadly  conflict,  and  fought 
as  only  mettlesome  warriors  can  fight,  lending 
and  paying  back  Titanic  blows— such  din,  and 
rush,  and  charge,  and  crash,  and  rattle,  with 
yells    and   violent  curses— each    combatants 


56 

face  lit  by  the  lurid  glow,  and  showing  either  a 
sardonic  grin  or  scowl,  and  circling  around 
and  around  like  earthly  pugilists  looking  for 
an  opening  whereby  an  advantage  might  be 
taken. 

Not  long  thus  did  they  act,  for,  enraged  be- 
yond patience,  they  each  charged  upon  the 
other,  and  were  soon  rolling  and  raving  at  one 
another  upon  the  floor,  and  then  all  Pande- 
monium grew  so  excited  that  it  looked  every 
minute  as  if  a  general  free  fight  would  be  en- 
gaged in.  Satan,  furious,  commanded,  in 
roaring  tones,  the  pressing  crov/d  to  stand 
back,  but  the  excitement  grew  and  became 
more  intense  every  moment. 

The  parson  endeavored  to  deaden  the  din  of 
the  expolding  petards  by  poking  his  fingers  in 
hisears;  the  deacon  tried  to  eject  the  sulphurous 
flumes  from  his  lungs  by  v  olently  coughing  ; 
Scribble-Scrub  dodged  the  forked  flames  that 
were  darting  between  them  ;  but  with  it  all 
they  could  not  escape  this  real  phantasma- 
goria, this  diversiformed,  confused  extrava- 
ganza. 

"  I^end  a  hand,  dominie." 

Scribble  Scrub's  quick  eye  had  perceived  an 
-•    opening  in  the  roof,  and  just  a  bare  possibility 
of  an  escape  from  the  infernal  regions  drawned 
upon  him.     "  Lend  me  a  hand,  deacon." 

"  What  now,  old  boy  ?    Jupiter,  the  devil  is 
going  to  pull  the  bottom  out  of  Pandemonium 
-  lend  a  hand — which  way  ?" 


57 
'^Follow  me,  you  two,  up  this  pillar." 
"  What  ?"  asked  the  parson  incredulously. 
"  There's  a  good  rope  called  disenthralment 
hanging  from   that  opening   up    there,"   re- 
turned the  reporter. 


In  five  minutes  the  three  men  were  climbing 
iand  over  fist  up  the  rope.     Just  then   there 


58 

came  a  tremendous  crash,  and  looking  down, 
they  saw  the  bottom  of  the  immense  hell- fire 
parliament  fall  out,  and  below  them  nothing 
remained  but  a  bottomless  pit 

The  three  worthies  struggled  to  the  top,  and 
crawling  out,  sat  upon  a  ledge,  and  Scribble, 
as  reporter  for  the  N.  Y.  Hooroarer,  wrote 
down  this  inscription,  which,  was  cut  in  a 
rock  : 

"  Through  this  opening  the  hundred  headed  mon- 
ster Typhaeus  was  thrown  down  by  Ageus ;  you  are 
in  the  crater  of  a  volcano  ;  go  a  little  highei  and  your 
dismission  from  hell  you  may  take." 

There  was  no  hypocrisy  in  the  thankfulness 
that  w^elled  up  in  the  hearts  of  these  three  men, 
as,  taking  courage,  they  climbed  toward  the 
sunshine  and  the  glorious  day. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  re;turn  journey. 

ScKNE — A  Graveyard.  [Enter  the  three  spir* 

its  of  ScRiBBivE  Scrub,  the   Deacon  and 

Parson]. 

"Here  is  the  spot,"  cried  Scribble-Scrub, 
"where  my  old  body  lies.  What  rank  grass 
grows  over  it.  In  that  tall  daisy,  perhaps, 
there's  a  piece  of  my  arm." 

All  three  sighed  and  remained  meditating,, 
while  a  fourth  spirit  came  upon  the  scene. 


59 

** Sweet  spirit,"  cried  the  deacon,  with 
emotion,  "would  Charon  give  our  bodies 
passage  back  again  to  earth  ?" 

The  spirit  answered : 

**  Thy  body  is  leut 

To  the  trees  and  shrubs, 

To  the  worms  and  grubs." 

"But  some  would    like   to  see  my  face," 

pleaded  the  parson. 

The  spirit  answered  : 

* '  Thy  wife  loves  another. 
So  would  it  be  fair 
To  return  back  there  ?" 

"Spirit,  spirit,  spirit,"  yelled  Scribble- Scrub. 
The  spirit  started  and  shook  like   an   aspen 

leaf. 

"I  am,  mark  you— mark  you,  spirit— not 
to  be  trifled  with,"  returned  Scribble-Scrub 
fiercely.  "  I  am  a  reporter  for  the  N.  Y.  Hoo- 
roarer^  and  must— must,  mind  you — return  to 
earth  ;  do  you  hear,  young  fellow  ?" 

The  spirit  stood  amazed,  and  in  a  wondering^ 
way  answered,  "Did  you  ever?" 

ScribblQ  followed  up  his  advantage  as  only 
a  New  York  reporter  can,  and  shook  the  very 
life  out  of  or  into  the  thoroughly  frightened 
and  subdued  spirit.  "Come,"  cried  he,  "I 
must  go  ;  bring  the  ingredients." 

The  spirit  disappeared  and  returned  with 
some  phosphorous;  then  again  with  silicon^ 
and  again  with  lime  and  carbon,  and  all  that 
was  necessary  was   at  once   furnished  by  con- 


6o 

densing  gases,  and  lo  !  a  body  was  formed, 
and  Scribble,  bidding  his  two  companions 
good-bye,  stepped  into  his  body,  as  you 
might  step  into  a  carriage,  and  walked  away. 

The  parson  and  deacon  were  never  heard  of 
again. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN   INCREASE  OF  PATRONAGE. 

"  The  New  York  Hooroarer  is  doomed." 

Thus  spoke  the  editor  to  his  assistant,  both 
having  come  together  to  compare  notes. 

The  Sub-Editor  looked  gloomily  around,  and 
thought  of  the  consequences  to  the  eight  little 
ones  that  constituted  his  family. 

"If  the  paper,"  began  the  Sub  Editor,  in 
trembling  tones,  "  should  fail,  sir" — 

"It  must  fail,"  thundered  the  Editor ;  *'  one 
thing  only  can  save  it,  and  that" — here  the 
Editor  added  in  sepulchral  tones — "  and  that  is 
the  return  of  Scribble-Scrub." 

Just  then  the  telephone  bell  rang  and  the 
Sub -Editor  answered  it. 

"Hello  there." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  contortions  upon  the 
Sub-Editor's  face  were  awful.  He  could  not 
speak,  but  appeared  to  be  dumfounded. 

The  Editor  looked  at  him  and  roared  out, 
■"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  any  how?" 


6i 

-  "Hello,"shouted  the  Sub-Editor  back  through 
the  telephone  ;  then  suddenly  facing  his  chief, 
he  said,  excitedly  :  "  It's  Scribble-Scrub  talk- 
ing, and  he  say's  he's  just  come  from  Hell." 

The  Editor  jumped  up,  and  knocking  the 
other  down,  seized^the  telephone  and  scream- 
ed :   '  *  What — hallo — who  are  you  ?" 

The  answer  was  satisfactory,  for  the  Editor 
laughed  a  mooney  laugh,  and  again  shouted  : 
"  Come  on  at  once  ;  if  no  other  way,  ring  up  a 
fire  in  City  Hall  district,  and  hang  on  like  mad 
to  the  fire  engine— see  ? — yes — hurry — good 
bye." 

The  Editor  slammed  the  telephone  down, 
and  stood  on  his  head  ;  went  to  the  closet,  and 
taking  out  a  bottle  of  wine,  knocked  a  hole  in 
the  bottom  and  poured  it  out  from  that  end  ; 
kicked  his  assistant,  and  told  him  to  drink 
and  never  be  dry  again  ;  told  him  to  go  and 
order  a  new  press  capable  of  turning  off  one 
hundred  thousand  copies  in  twenty  minutes, 
advertise  for  compositors,  for  paper,  printer's 
ink,  devils,  and  type.  Hooroar  for  the  Hoor- 
oarer  I 

He  continued  in  this  manner  for  some  time, 
when  an  ambulance  bell  was  heard,  and  looking 
out  of  the  window,  he  saw  the  ambulance  tear- 
ing at  break-neck  speed  toward  the  office  of 
the  Hooroarer,  and  Scribble-Scrub  sprang  out 
of  it  as  it  rushed  by,  and  ran  up  stairs  and  into 
the  office  of  the  Hooroarer, 

They  embraced  all  around. 


62 

^'Saved  !"  cried  the  Editor  with  his  heart  full, 

*'Ah,  yes,  I  am,"  replied  Scribble-Scrub. 

* '  I  meant  the  Hooroarer, ' '  returned  the 
Editor. 

And  so  it  was,  for  the  circulation  went  at 
once  to  over  half  a  million,  and  all  their  for- 
tunes were  made. 

^        -^        -^        -^        -^        -^        ^ 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FINAI^IvY   DKAR   BRETHREN. 

"Canyon  help  him.  Doctor?"  asked  an 
anxious  looking  man,  of  a  gentleman  who  was 
bending  over  a  prostrate  form  and  administer- 
ing restoratives. 

**  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor  ;  ''he's  returning 
to  consciousness  ;  now  look  at  him — how  much 
did  he  eat?" 

''The  wager  was,"  replied  the  other,  "that 
he  should  eat  and  drink  before  the  Reporter's 
Club,  one  pound  of  beefsteak,  two  spring  chick- 
ens, one  quart  of  ox-tail  soup,  one  plate  of 
weakfish,  fifty  raw  oysters,  one  pint  of  claret, 
one  pumpkin  pie  fourteen  inches  across,  six 
pairs  of  frog's  legs,  on^  stew  and  one  fry,  three 
cup  custards  and  a  pint  of  coffee." 

"I  won't  leave  him  yet,  then,"  quietly  spoke 
the  doctor,  "  that  is,  provided  he  ate  so  much." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  won  the  wager,"  returned  the 


63 

other  ;  * '  ate  everything  up  clean  and  polished 
the  plates." 

The  man  finally  recovered,  but  while  in  that 
period  of  unconsciousness  he  dreamed  the  fore- 
going story,  and  it  was  while  his  lips  were  yet 
bloodless  with  a  convalescent  struggle  that  they 
narrated  this  painful  dream  to  the  author,  who 
is  extremely  sorry  that  its  faithful  rendition  in 
a  former  edition  has  made  so  many  of  his 
acquantainces'  blood  to  curdle,  and  who  now 
desires  to  offer  a  thousand  apologies  for  hav- 
ing unintentionally  shattered  the  nerves  of  his 
fellow  townsmen  ;  and  as  the  former  edition 
was  signed  Vindex — whose  terribly  mysterious 
significance  had  much  to  do  (without  doubt) 
with  the  appalling  reception  this  little  book 
obtained.  Perhaps  now  we  may  obviate  this 
difficulty  by  affixing  the  following. 
Yours  truly, 

Chas.  Edwards. 


^Vill   soon   be   issued  : 


The  Rejected  Symbol 


(Copyrierhted.) 


BY   CHARLES  EDWARDS. 


'God  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men,"' — BiBLE. 


The  principle  that  all  men  were  brothers  needed  an 
emblem  vStrans^e  that  an  emblem  of  such  a  principle 
should  have  been  born  when  men  were  least  like 
brothers ;  strange  that  this  trophy  of  a  magnificent 
evangel,  whose  incarnadined  hue  typified  the  resem- 
blance and  corresponcUng  similarity  of  the  fluid  that 
flowed  in  all  human  veins,  should,  when  first  flung 
to  the  breeze,  displace  ardor  and  enthusiasm  for  de- 
moniac madness,  and  bring  shame  and  ignominy 
upon  an  emblem  in  itself  transcendantly  beautiful,  and 
which  must  yet,  despite  the  stigma  of  its  associations, 
become  the  flag  of  tlie  \nox\<\.  — Chapter  X. 


